The Forgetting Place
by little.red.7734
Summary: A place of darkness and stone, a place for the thrown away; a place for Sarah to stay.


The Fogetting Place

Sarah felt along the slimy stone of the oubliette, her nails tearing even more against the rough surface. Tears dripped down her face, keeping pace with the blood that dripped from her broken hands. She didn't know how long she been at the walls, searching, scrapping, trying to dig her way to freedom. It was dark and she couldn't see a thing but Sarah knew that her nails were almost gone and that her hands were tattered from her need to escape.

But it wasn't her hands that hurt her the most, nor was it the biting cold that made her shiver uncontrollably, no, the pain, the tears, the wracking shivers were all caused by her broken heart.

Sarah knew she should have seen it coming, but he had been so good; so very crafty in his game with her this time. He had come and he had claimed no ill will towards her, simply that he wished to alleviate his boredom and thought of her.

Sarah had, of course, been suspicious, but he had won her over, he was patient and he never toed the line of silent agreement they had more than she would have expected him to. He was the perfect gentlemen, but with a hint of the wild thrown in and Sarah had fallen all over again.

Only, this time, instead of a fictional character from a little red book Sarah had fallen in love with the real Goblin King. Well, she thought she had. But it had all been such a stupid mistake on her part, such faulty naivety. He was the Goblin King after all, and he had led her on a merry chase. He had made her fall for him, and then, when her heart was fully his he had banished her to the oubliette; to the place of forgetting.

Sarah could still see his sneer and malicious eyes, even in the blackness. But even then, even when he had sliced her up inside, her tattered heart gave a small lurch when she thought of his face.

Sarah stopped her searching hands then; her body wracking with sobs that made it impossible to breath; her bleeding hands clutching at her aching chest. It felt as though her heart should be bleeding instead of her hands, and, as the blood from her hands soaked through her thin, cotton shirt and trickled down past her heart Sarah felt relief that her heart was finally bleeding. Perhaps her heart would open up and bleed as fast as her suffering was coming, at least then even she could forget about herself.

But Sarah knew it would never be that easy nothing ever was in her life. Instead she sat in the dark, her body having spasms from the cold and her hands convulsing and losing blood, as her mind reran her last memory of Jareth, over, and over, and over again, each time sending a new jolt of pain running though her.

_Jareth stepped away from her embrace and Sarah found herself in his castle. She frowned at him, wondering why he had brought her to his throne room._

"_Jareth what—"_

_His gloved finger rested gently on her lips and Sarah looked up, frowning at the terrifying smirk on his face and his cruel, laughing eyes._

"_Goodbye, precious thing."_

_And then he was gone, replaced by solid darkness and cold silence._

Sarah laughed harshly, wincing at her cracked lips and wondering how long she had been lost in memory, her lips hadn't hurt so much before…had they? Her laugh echoed back to her, mocking her, letting her know that while the world may have forgotten her and while her heart's love may have forsaken her she would never be able to forget herself, nor the pain.

"Precious thing…" Sarah cackled, her harsh laughter breaking over the silence and running about the menacing stone around her. "Precious thing, oh precious thing, how you will remember…" Sarah's words echoed around her, chasing after her broken laughter. But eventually even the echoes died away: forgotten, and Sarah leant back against the stone of her purgatory, waiting for the suspended time to let her mind die out; to let her forget.

But the forgetting would never come, after all, the oubliette was the place you put someone to forget all about them, not for them to forget about you. Sarah laughed again, stick fingers with broken tips touching at the blood that fell from dry, cracked lips, and she wondered when the blood had stopped flowing from her fingers.

**Well, that's all...for now...we'll see about a second part but I kind of like the dark ending. Let me know what you think, reviews make me happy...plus, you know, they aid in the whole...creative process.**

**Thanks for reading.**

**-red.**


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